“Eleanor has been telling me more about the man called the Slayer,” Snow whispered.

Willow took the seat opposite the table from her sister and Eleanor, Eleanor filling a tankard with hot cider and handing it to her.

“Tell me,” Willow said, taking the tankard as a chill ran through her worried for what she might hear.

Eleanor kept her voice low, though there were few in the Great Hall to hear her.

“It seemed strange to say what I heard, but then I thought you should know since Lord Tarass has sent the Slayer after your husband,” Eleanor explained.

“I appreciate that, Eleanor. Please tell me whatever you know.”

Eleanor nodded and hurried to say, “I remember hearing the older nuns talking about the Slayer being around for years far beyond what a human man could live. The one nun, Sister Agnes, old as the hills and has since passed, said that when she was young the Slayer had come for a man in her clan. All knew he had been marked, though I didn’t know what she meant by that, and avoided him. Even the chieftain had kept his distance. No one did anything to help him. Sister Agnes had said that afterwards many a parent warned their children to be good or the Slayer would get them.” Eleanor crossed herself. “Sister Agnes believed the Slayer was a demon who rose up from the depths of hell when called upon and did as the one who summoned him asked.”

“Wouldn’t that leave the person who summoned him obligated to the demon or the devil himself?” Snow asked.

“Demons are commanded by the devil, so if you call upon a demon for help, you owe the devil his due,” Eleanor said and shuddered.

“That means that Lord Tarass is beholding to the devil,” Snow said and shivered.

The Highlands were full of folktales and beliefs, some having a basis for them and others pure myths, not a truth to them. That was what her practical nature told Willow. Man didn’t need the devil to make him evil. He did that all on his own. Her mum, though, had warned her not to dismiss folklore too lightly. That she should consider it and see what purpose the tale served. That within it, there was a lesson to be learned.

But what lesson could possibly be learned from the Slayer going around marking and killing people?

“Tell her the rest,” Snow urged.

“I didn’t know if it was worth telling, since I didn’t know how true it was. It had been something Sister Agnes had heard through others, though she claimed it true. The Slayer didn’t only kill men. He killed women as well, or at least one woman. Snapped her neck he did, or so said Sister Agnes.”

This time Willow shuddered, a deep chill rushing through her.

“Did you know how a person who wanted help from the Slayer got in touch with him?” Willow asked.

“That’s the part I found so strange,” Eleanor said. “Sister Agnes said the trees in the woods delivered the message. That the deep roots delivered it to the devil himself.”